


All-Time Low

by orphan_account



Category: Borderlands, Tales from.the Borderlands
Genre: Alternate Universe - Student/Teacher, Depression, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Suicide, Teacher-Student Relationship, Violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-09-18
Updated: 2016-09-18
Packaged: 2018-08-15 18:38:13
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 3
Words: 1,330
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8068387
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Rhys hates that he's in love with his senior year photography teacher. He doesn't want to be. It would be so much easier if he wasn't.





	1. I was the Knight in Shining Armour in your Movie

**Author's Note:**

> Rhys is 17/18 in this fic, in his senior year of high school. In case you guys didn't know.

Rhys forgets when all of this started, he just knows there isn't an end in sight.

One of the boys surrounding him grabs his hair, tugging his head back harshly at an odd angle. Another takes his arm - the only one he has - and pulls it painfully behind his back. The last kicks his knees out from under him, so the only thing that catches him is his shoulder.

He screams in pain.

The boys laugh. This is fun: a game. It has been for years. Since he transferred here.

Rhys is an easy target: small, skinny, missing an entire limb. You shouldn’t be able to miss him but you do because he's so insignificant.

When the boys finally let the strain of Rhys’ shoulder end, they drop him to the ground and start kicking him. Most of the contact is random, but some are aimed at his crotch or his face.

The laughter above Rhys doesn't cease.

Rhys learned a long time ago not to fight back. It just makes things worse, makes them hurt him more.

So he takes it.

Today is different, though. Which is strange.

Today, Mister Lawrence arrives to break up the group of teenagers.

“Hey. Hey!” his voice booms, startling everyone around. “Leave him alone, you hear me?”

The man grabs one of the teens by the shoulder and pulls him roughly back. The other two quickly disperse, attempting to avoid getting caught.

Rhys just curls into a tight ball, his hand covering his face futilely.

When the boys are gone, Mister Lawrence kneels down next to Rhys, his voice now soft, cautious.

“Rhys? Hey, Kiddo?” he asks quietly. “Are you alright?”

The boy doesn't look up, doesn't move. Mister Lawrence waits patiently, moving to sit cross-legged next to the kid. His class can wait. He needs to make sure Rhys is okay.

Rhys squeezes his eyes shut tight and tries to draw a deep breath. His ribs protest painfully, but he deals. He moves his hand slowly, pushing himself up. He looks at his teacher and bites at his lip.

“I… I'm fine, Mister Lawrence,” he says quietly, his voice broken and weak. The man frowns.

“Call me Jack, okay kiddo?”

Rhys just nods.

“You have my class next, don't you?” Jack asks, standing up and holding his hand out to help Rhys up.

The boy just scowls at the outstretched palm.

“I can do it myself,” he mumbles, standing up without Jack’s help. The man’s brows furrow.

“I never said you couldn't.”

Rhys’ eyes make contact with the floor and don't budge. He keeps scowling.

“C’mon, Kiddo. We’re both late.”


	2. Would Put your Lips on Mine and Love the Aftertaste

Rhys pulls his lunch bag out of his backpack, along with a pair of headphones. He makes his way to Mister Lawrence’s classroom.

Ever since “the incident,” Mister Lawrence has asked Rhys to spend his lunch block with him in his classroom, so that he's safe.

The teen gladly takes up the offer, hiding away in the room while he watches the man grade papers and write out lesson plans.

He takes these lunch periods to admire Mister Lawrence. His hair, his body. The way his brow furrows as he reads an essay or looks at a photo a student has taken.

His brow doesn't furrow when he looks at Rhys’ work. The boy has noticed this.

Sometimes they talk. Rhys will pull up a chair and look at all the photos the students have taken laid out across Mister Lawrence’s desk. They'll both point out flaws or good qualities of the pieces, content to just have each other for company.

And this is when Rhys notices he's attracted to his teacher.

Sometimes he worries he stares at the man too much. He feels like he's being creepy, watching him as he moves around, graceful yet clumsy.

Mister Lawrence is surprisingly patient with Rhys, which is odd because he's so hard on the other students, his booming voice harsh to keep them all in line. But his voice always softens when he's talking to Rhys, even in class.

Rhys’ classmates have noticed.

The boys that like to bully him are calling him a teacher’s pet. Their beatings get worse.

Mister Lawrence notices when Rhys comes to class with a bloody lip and a black eye. His eyes get hard, glassy: angry. He makes an almost predatory growl. But he's stuck teaching his lesson. He can't help Rhys.

During lunch block that day, Mister Lawrence pulls a chair next to Rhys’ desk, instead of the other way around.

“Kiddo, are you alright?” he asks softly. Rhys is staring at his desk. They'd been making progress. Rhys had started making eye contact.

The boy shakes his head.

Mister Lawrence growls again. He places a gentle hand on Rhys’ neck, using his thumb under the teen’s jaw to tilt his head up so he can get a good look.

“What did they _do_ to you, kiddo?” he asks softly, as not to startle the kid. Rhys keeps his mouth shut and refuses to return the man’s gaze.

“You can tell me, Rhys,” Mister Lawrence murmurs.

“M-Mister Law - “ Rhys starts, but his teacher cuts him off.

“It's Jack.”

“J… J-Jack, I'm fine, I can deal with it, I'll be okay…”

Jack frowns.

“You don't gotta deal with everything by yourself, kiddo,” the man says softly. He moves his hand to cup Rhys’ jaw, running his thumb lightly over the cut in the boy’s lip.

“I'm used to being alone. I'm _fine_ ,” the teenager insists, his tone aggravated. He doesn't need help. He can handle himself. He doesn't need pity.

“Rhysie,” Jack murmurs softly, scanning the boy’s face as he leans forward. The kiss isn't _really_ a kiss, he tells himself. Just a simple brush of lips across lips. Definitely not a kiss. Nope. Nada.

Rhys’ good eye flies open wide as he stares at Jack.

“Jack…?” he questions, unsure of what to say.

“I want to help you, Rhysie. Let me help.”

“I don't need your _pity_ ,” Rhys spits, scowling.

“I don't pity you, kid. I _care_ ,” Jack growls softly, before leaning back in to smash their lips together.

Well, fuck.


	3. Now I'm a Ghost, I Call your Name, you look Right Through Me

After their kiss Rhys notices a sudden change in the way Jack acts towards him during class.

Jack’s voice is no longer as gentle when he addresses him. He doesn't give the boy extra special attention. He doesn't give him those small glances.

Everything has changed.

Why was he punishing Rhys for this? Jack was the one that had kissed _him_ , not the other way around! This isn't _fair_!

Rhys still spends his lunches in Jack’s classroom. They kiss more, now. Shy, little pecks here and there. It helps Rhys feel better some days.

Others it's like a kick to the face.

He doesn't understand why Jack is suddenly acting differently. It isn't like anyone knows that they kissed. It isn’t like anyone really knows what they’re doing when Rhys spends his lunch blocks with Jack.

So when Rhys tries openly flirting with Jack and gets absolutely _no_ response from the man, Rhys realises something.

He doesn't actually mean _anything_ to Jack. He's just something fun to do in his spare time. A fling.

Not that Jack will ever touch him. He's tried. Jack makes it clear that only small kisses are okay.

Jack pities him and he can feel it.

And it _hurts_.

So why does Rhys keep going back? Why does he need to be around Jack so desperately?

Sometimes Jack will play with Rhys’ hair. Sometimes he'll whisper in his ear. Sometimes he'll even hold hands with the teen, smile softly at him in that way he does.

Rhys hates him for it.

But how he _longs_ for his attention.

One time, he even sits Rhys in his lap while they look at some photographs. Rhys is so glad that he's there that he practically _melts_ , shivering and curling up against the firm body that is Jack.

But this only happens once.


End file.
